Moments Caught
by XXDancingxInxThexRainXX
Summary: “You… you’re not wearing a shirt under that jacket, are you?” He glared. "Nope."' SxF drabbles, review please! Not as kinky as it sounds, I promise. Requests welcome!
1. Life's a Bitch A

Pairing(s): SpikexFaye

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: If I owned CB, a lot of things would be different. For example... a certain blond slut would be dead. -cough- (Translation: DO NOT OWN.)

* * *

"Kind of late for a snack, eh Faye?" Spike Spiegle murmured, upon finding his fellow bounty hunter digging around in the not-so well stocked fridge.

"I was hungry. So sue me." She answered without looking at her companion. Faye's deep violet hair fell loosely around her face without it's usual band to hold it back. She sighed, there was literally _nothing_ in the food stock that she could stomach.

"We need money…" She stated blandly, closing the door dissatisfied. Spike merely shrugged.

"We'll get it… soon. Jet thinks he may have found a lead of a good target." One large hand made it's way through the lanky man's viridian hair. Faye didn't answer, instead she shuffled toward the young man.

"Got a smoke? I'm out." Spike reached in his pocket, bringing fourth a half full pack of cigarettes. Without word, Faye nodded in thanks, he nodded back offering his lighter. Faye took little notice of his shaking hand.

"Why are you still dressed?" Faye motioned toward the male's regular apparel- steel toed shoes and all. Herself, meanwhile was clad in nothing but an oversized button up shirt (that Spike vaguely recognized as his own-he said nothing) and shorts. Hey, one in the morning is a time for sleep… generally.

"I was thinking. Lost track of time." He sighed, puffing on his stub of a cancer stick.

"…Julia?" Faye's back was turned, she didn't catch her partner's stiffening body, nor the look of supreme sadness in his one real eye.

"You need to ask?" Faye shrugged, turning back around, Spike threw the cigarette on the ground, grinding what was left of it under the heel of his shoe.

"I'm not one to talk, but she's gone Spike. You need to forget about her." Faye whispered, Spike shook his head.

"I can't Faye. I really can't." Faye heaved a breath, drawing deeply on the dwindling cigarette, she watched as the smoke leaked from between her strawberry colored lips, the tremor in her partner's voice frightened her.

"Why so mellow, Spiegle? Normally when I ask you about her you go insane." Faye observed. She was slightly unnerved by his nonchalance on the subject- it was out of character for him.

"I've been thinking too much. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should just forget her- but how Faye, how?" He advanced on the small woman, his large and grasping her petite wrist tightly. "How do _you_ forget?" He mumbled, Faye looked down at his hand.

"I don't know. I've never tried to forget." She lied, her free hand reaching up toward her partner's face- she thought better of it and let the appendage drop.

"Lying slut." Spike's thin, colorless lips pulled into a halfhearted sneer as he watched the pale arm fall back to the woman's side. There was no malice behind the harsh words, there was no meaning.

"Stupid lunkhead." Faye countered, equally uncaring. Spike almost smiled at the familiar banter, settling instead for an unsteady half grimace.

Slowly, the slim woman led the male to the living room couch, she sat him down on the worn lemon yellow leather. Not protesting, Spike allowed himself to be pulled by his small friend (_Friend? Really?….._) onto the sofa with no protest. Something was definitely wrong.

"Spike, are you really okay…?" Faye's usually sharp voice was soft with concern, she loathed to see him so torn up like this. No matter how much the two argued, she could never _really_ hate him.

Spike nodded, his hand finally let go of Faye's wrist (on it's own accord, apparently) his drawn face dropped into his palms.

Faye had never seen him like this- she didn't even think it was possible for him to look like this. Spike was tough, he was the kind of person that could stare down the barrel of a gun and laugh. This was not Spike, this weak person before her was not Spike… it couldn't be.

"I'm breaking Faye…." His voice was a mixture of frustration and fear, the plum haired woman slid gingerly closer to the man.

"No Spike. You're not going to break… I'll hold you together." A single, small hand was placed over Spike's large, calloused one. The forlorn man glanced briefly down at their hands, Faye wondered if she had gone too far. Just as she began to draw her palm away unsurely, Spike's own hand reached over to grab her side. In one, smooth movement Fay was twisted to face him on the couch, Spike forehead rested in the crook of her neck. His large, rough hands were gentle as they settled on Faye's tiny waist.

"Not a word…." Came Spike's muffled voice. Faye, as shocked as she was, almost laughed.

"Not a word." She agreed.

* * *

**(A/N: Well, my first fic in a very long while. Hope you all liked it- this started out as a three hundred word drabble, but... well... attention span was abnormally long today ;; Thank you all SO much for reading! Please review if you can, if you can't... Well, that would hurt my ego.)**


	2. Life's a Bitch B

Pairing(s): SpikexFaye

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: If I owned CB, a lot of things would be different. For example... a certain blond slut would be dead. -cough- (Translation: DO NOT OWN.)

* * *

"What. The. _Fuck." _Spike Spiegle grumbled to himself, it was closing in on one AM and he hadn't even _thought_ of sleep. In fact, sleep happened to be the very thing furthest from his mind right now.

For the better part of this day, this lanky bounty hunter had been holed up in the storage room, avoiding any and all forms of life aboard the Bebop. _I'm not sulking. I'm thinking._ He had reasoned, lying through his teeth (and he knew it too). The only person that could get him in to this fit of brooding was a certain golden haired, sapphire eyed Goddess that had conveniently got up and fucking _left. _Oh, not that Spike was angry, _no_! Spike? Angry? Never! He was down right furious.

In fact, the green haired space cowboy was sick to death of the haunting pain in his chest, that ache that he got whenever he thought of her. He was tired of hurting! The only way to get rid of the hurt, he rationalized, was to change it into anger. Which he so (obviously) had done.

"Maybe I should talk to Jet…." Yes, Jet had dealt with abandoning women. He had experience, maybe Jet could tell him what he should do! -But, no, that would mean showing weakness. He'd rather break down and cry in front of _Ed _than let on anything at all was wrong with him in front of Jet. Must be some male ego thing.

Faye…. He could talk to Faye. No, stupid idea, Faye was a total bitch that cared nothing but for herself.

_That's not true, and you know it._

"So what if it's not true, shut up and let me delude myself."

Spike's brow furrowed… was he really just _talking_ to himself? Oh for the love of God…

"Faye's not so bad." He finally conceded, flicking the ashes from his dwindling cancer stick onto the cold steel grating of the floor. In fact, Faye was almost tolerable most of the time… he just liked to get her angry. An angry Faye was like watching a kitten getting mad- adorable.

Yes, if Faye could hear what he was thinking she'd shoot him in the knee caps.

"Well…. Maybe not adorable." Spike corrected himself out loud. Another shake of the head, two things came to thought. One: He needed to stop talking to himself. And Two: Where the hell was this thought process _going_? God he needed coffee. He glanced down at his large hands- rough and calloused from years of hard living. They were shaking like a leaf. _Dammit_. Thoughts about Julia- anything related to Julia, in fact- whether they be kind thoughts, angry or mournful never failed to shake him up.

"Christ Spike, grow a back bone, would you?" He addressed himself bitterly.

Taking one last draw on the dying cigarette, Spike dropped it onto the ground and rubbed it out with the toe of his shoe. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone- Spike shambled down the hallway and in to the kitchen.

"Come one… don't tell me we're out of pudding…" A familiar female voice rang out in the dim kitchen. _Faye_. Without word, Spike edged further into the kitchen, coming to rest on the edge of the counter.

"Kind of late for a snack, eh Faye?" Spike murmured, he watched as the woman jumped slightly at his voice.

"I was hungry. So sue me." She shot back, not looking at him. Spike watched closely as his partner sighed, standing lazily. She closed the door with an immensely disappointed look on her pale face. Faye's soft violet hair hung in her eyes, without the ever present hair band to hold it back Faye was forever pushing it out of her eyes.

"We need money…" Faye's voice sounded sour as she made her way up to the young man. Spike shrugged, it was true.

"We'll get it… soon. Jet thinks he may have found a lead of a good target." Spike ran a hand through his hair, tired. With weary eyes he watched as Faye advanced slowly.

"Got a smoke? I'm out." Spike toyed with the idea of saying 'no', but wasn't in the mood to fight with her. He reached into his pocket, pulling fourth a half finished pack, his last one. The male held the box out to Faye, who helped herself to one. Spike followed in suite, pulling out a lighter and offering it to her. Faye nodded gratefully, puffing in as Spike held the open flame out in front of her face. Doing the same, he shoved both the box and the lighter back in his pocket. Maybe the nicotine would settle his nerves some.

"Why are you still dressed?" Faye made an attempt at small talk. Spike shrugged one shoulder and watched as the small woman turned her back on him to stare out the window. He stared down at his apparel, not exactly appropriate for sleep. The tired male glanced back to his companion- wait, was that _his_ shirt? Ah fuck it. He just didn't care right now.

"I was thinking. Lost track of time." Spike finally answered, puffing on his cig.

"…Julia?" Faye whispered, Spike was glad her back was turned… she couldn't see his reaction.

"You need to ask?" He wondered aloud, not really intending it to be a real question. Restlessly, he threw the cigarette down and extinguished it violently. Faye turned to look at the mess of burning cigarette pieces on the floor. So what if it was new, he'd be buying a new pack soon anyway, no need to ration.

"I'm not one to talk, but she's gone Spike. You need to forget about her." Faye uttered lowly, looking back up at him. Her green eyes were so large and innocent (… _Is innocent really a good word to describe her?_) Spike shook the thought from his head.

"I can't Faye. I really can't." Faye sighed at his reaction, leaning back against the opposite edge of the counter. She took a long draw on her cig, watching with mild interest as the smoke escaped her slightly parted lips. Spike really hoped she hadn't caught that slight waver in his voice…

"Why so mellow, Spiegle? Normally when I ask you about her you go insane." The wine haired vixen pointed out. Spike was shaken, did he really react so badly?

"I've been thinking too much. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should just forget her- but how Faye, how?" Spike took a step forward, wrapping one large hand around Faye's petite wrist, maybe a tad too tightly. "How do _you_ forget?" He mumbled, watching as Faye stared down at his hand.

"I don't know. I've never tried to forget." Her voice was strained, an obvious falsity. Faye reached her free hand toward Spike's face, he eyed the hand as it drew nearer. At the last moment, however, the appendage dropped back to her side. Why did he feel so disappointed?

"Lying slut." Spike sneered faintly, mostly out of habit. There was no malice behind the harsh words, there was no meaning.

"Stupid lunkhead." Faye countered, her voice almost as lifeless as his own. Spike wanted to grin at the familiar banter between the two, the obvious strain it was to try and keep things normal. He could only grimace.

With a concerned look, Faye took advantage if Spike's vise-like grasp on her wrist and led the two through the doorway to the living room. She reached up to put a small amount of pressure on his shoulder, just enough to get him to sit down on the worn yellow leather of the out dated couch.

"Spike, are you really okay…?" The small woman's voice was uncharacteristically soft, soothing almost. It saddened Spike.

He nodded, unconvincingly. He let go of the wrist in his grasp so he could rest his face in his hands.

What the hell was he doing? Didn't he already agree with himself that he wouldn't talk about this to _anyone_? Especially _Faye_ of all people! No one could see his weaknesses, he worked to hard to keep them down, to never let them surface. So why was his perfect façade failing him now of all times? Life was a bitch.

"I'm breaking Faye…." Spikes voice came out low, choked with frustration and fear. He felt Faye's warm body scoot closer to him.

"No Spike. You're not going to break… I'll hold you together." Spike felt as her small hand was placed over his large one, almost childlike in it's size. The green haired cowboy withdrew his face to glance down at their hands, he could feel Faye starting to pull away. Not thinking, a single hand shot out and latched on to her slim waist. He pulled her around so that she was facing him, and in a smooth movement his face was in the crook of her neck.

She was soft. Softer than he could ever imagine, softer than Julia had ever been. She had a certain fragrance about her… a mix of smoke and vanilla, maybe with a hint of freesia. It was nice.

"Not a word…." Spike mumbled into her pale skin, he could feel her holding back a giggle. Good thing, too. If she had laughed then she'd be facing imminent death.

"Not a word." She agreed.

* * *

**(A/N: Well, chapter two is out. Woohoo! God, I can't believe I updated twice in one day. I'm such a dork. Ah well, this was screaming at me to be written. Spike's POV as he argues with himself about the scene in chapter one. Bleah. Thanks for reading! Please, PLEASE review!)**


	3. Nightmares and Alcohol

Pairing(s): SpikexFaye

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: If I owned CB, a lot of things would be different. For example... a certain blond slut would be dead. -cough- (Translation: DO NOT OWN.)

* * *

"Hey, I'm back!" Faye called out into the cold abyss that was the Bebop after hours. Our dear Faye had recently gotten back from a new bounty, arms laden with shopping bags.

"It went well, I had money to shop and Woolongs left over! Hey Jet, I brought some beef home." She called out, receiving no answer still. Sighing heavily, she set down her bags. _Someone_ had to be awake, it was only eleven-ish.

"Pfft. Lazy bastards, probably just don't want to get up." Faye thought as she made her way into the abandoned kitchen. Dissatisfied, she opened the refrigerator door and sat the bag of raw beef inside. "Hey, guys?" She called out again…. Maybe they had gone to the casino.

"Hey, is anyone here?" She screamed, hearing only silence, she stepped out of the kitchen and in to the hallway, calling out her crew member's names.

"Hey, where _are_ you guys?" concern dawning on her pale features, Faye ambled into the wheel well, letting the low gravity take over as she drifted up.

"Spike? Jet…. Ed? Anyone?" Faye was stationary as she observed her surroundings shift around her. Carefully, Faye grabbed hold on one of the handles on the wall, letting it pull her forward.

"Guys, are you-….." Faye's voice died as she came upon her worst nightmare. In shock, the young woman let go of the handle, afraid to move any closer to her comrades.

Before her, floating aimlessly were the lifeless bodies of her friends… her family. Jet and Spike each had a hand on one of Ed's shoulders, their frozen faces a mask of pain and terror. Ed's eyes were closed- as if in sleep. Gashes littered her team's flesh, their bodies bruised and tortured. Blood swirled around her in the weightless atmosphere, a drop hit Faye's cheek, pulling her out of her reverie.

"No… no! Spike! Jet, please wake up! Ed!" Faye pushed off the wall to propel herself towards her friends, she came to a halt before Spike. His already pale skin sported a dull pallor, a gunshot wound ripped through his chest. Mismatched eyes stared blankly at her, glassy.

One quick glance over to Jet proved the same, his form was riddled with bullets. Ed, the target of their protection had various slashes all over her arms and legs, her throat was slit.

"Please no. _Please_ _no._ Not my family, not my family…." Faye's arms wrapped around the inanimate forms as she sobbed.

* * *

"_No!_" Faye shot up from her bed, breathing heavily. Her body was covered with sweat, the sheets were tangled around her restricting her movements.

"It was only a dream… only a dream…." The violet haired lady assured herself. Still shaking she got up from her (now drenched) bed. Tears flowed down her face unbidden. She had to check on them. She had to make sure they were all right.

Silently, Faye's door opened. She padded the ten or so feet to Jet's room, glancing down at the sleeping Ed beside his door. Seeing the girl's chest rise and fall calmly in peaceful sleep, Faye was put at ease- partially, at least.

She slid the door to Jet's room open, trying to make as little noise as possible. The trembling woman stalked in, checking Jet's breathing. He was alright.

"Only a dream." Faye repeated shakily to herself as she excited the fatherly man's quarters. Not thinking to check Spike's room (he so rarely slept there) Faye half stumbled in to the living room.

Just as she expected, on the worn yellow couch Spike's lanky form rested- a mere blob in the darkness. In the silence of the night Faye could make out his steady breaths, it wasn't enough. Cautiously she shuffled toward the dozing cowboy, kneeling next to his still form.

"Watcha want?" Faye jumped at the sound of his sleepy voice.

"N-nothing. Just… checking on you. That's all." _Great job Faye. Way to make yourself sound like a creepy stalker._

"I know I'm sexy, but you don't got to watch me in my sleep." the green haired annoyance yawned, disturbing the almost grin that had wormed its way on to his drooping features.

"Shut up ass hole." Faye spat, her voice thick. _Dammit, don't cry! Why are you always _crying_!? _She chided herself as a low sob echoed through the room. Spike fell silent.

"Bad dream?" He deadpanned, Faye nodded- remembering he couldn't see her she made a small noise at the back of her throat.

"Taking that as a 'Hell yes I had a bad dream you douche.'" Spike's weary voice attempted a girly squeak (which he failed miserably at, by the way) Faye let out a half chuckle.

"Want to talk about it?"

"You're obviously delirious, Spike. Go back to sleep. When you wake up you'll be back to your old cranky self." Faye smiled through the pitch blackness. A now fully awake Spike grinned at the darker space he took to be Faye.

"Well, now that you have me up I may as well listen to your bitching. It may put me back to sleep." He joked, Faye whacked him lightly over what she thought was his shoulder, but turned out to be his head.

"Sure, why not. I'll turn on the lights and get us some beer." Faye rose from her resting spot on the dirt carpet and felt her way to the light switch.

"Leave the lights off. I don't feel like being blinded." Spike grouched as he sat up and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Whatever." Faye sighed as she walked through the doorway to the kitchen. She shut the door behind her, turning on the lights with a sigh. She must look like crap. Sluggishly, the young woman made her way to the sink, she rinsed her face hoping to ride herself of any stray tear stains. Towel drying her cheeks, Faye grabbed two beers from the top shelf of the refrigerator and ambled back in to the living room.

"Alcoholic beverages, coming right up." Faye felt around for the couch- maybe turning on the lights was a bad idea after all, her eyes just didn't want to adjust to the barely there lighting.

"Ah, nothing like getting slobbering drunk in the middle of the night." Spike chuckled as he reached out for his drink. Thank you fake eye!- Night vision was extremely helpful.

"Ain't that right." Faye agreed as she lowered herself down on to the yellow atrocity they declared a 'sofa'.

"Zo, vat vas dis dreem about, eh?" Spike adopted a bad Swedish accent in a sad attempt to resemble a shrink.

"For the love of God Spike, are you _ever_ serious?" Faye asked, giggling into the neck of her bottle.

"Hey, at least you aren't crying anymore." Spike so aptly pointed out. Faye grinned, appreciative.

"Well… I had come home from shopping, I think." Faye struggled to remember how the dream started. The details were all fuzzy in her sleep deprived mind.

"Yeah, what else is new?" She ignored the snide remarks of her not-so mature comrade.

"I couldn't find you guys… I looked and looked, but you weren't anywhere. I kind of thought you just left someplace…" Spike nodded, taking a swig of his beer.

"But then I found your bodies…" Faye could feel the lump in her throat coming back. She didn't elaborate any further, for fear of breaking down again.

"That's stupid Faye, you know we'd never leave you. If we go down, you're going down with us." Spike's insensitive attempt at comforting the distraught woman -amazingly- worked. Faye sniffled a bit.

"Besides, who out there could take _me_ down?" Spike jabbed his thumb in to his own chest, Faye sighed.

"I'd loath to find that out." She grumbled, Spike nodded in silent agreement.

"Have you been having these dreams long?" Spike asked, Faye shrugged nonchalantly.

"A while, their usually not as violent." Faye looked down at her beer, she could smell the bitter twang of it as the aroma drifted out of the bottle.

"You know you can come to me whenever you need to, right? However fun it is to argue with you, I hate to see women cry." Spike propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"Thanks… I think. I just can't understand why I'm so upset all the time. What the hell is _wrong_ with me?" Faye bitterly murmured. She was angry at herself, she _abhorred_ feeling weak. vulnerability wasn't her thing. Spike just shrugged.

"Hey, everyone has to be weak sometimes. You can't be chipper all the time. Or, in your case- a bitchy slut." Faye ignored the insults, knowing he didn't really mean any harm by them. _You can't be mad at what's true_, she reasoned.

"I appreciate this Spike." Faye finished off her bottle and made a move to get up.

"Don't mention it. You'll be fine." The lanky man nodded sagely as he finished off his drink as well. He knew what to expect… he had had his faire share of nightmares in his time. They fade, eventually.

"G'night." Faye nodded to him before feeling her way to the door.

"Night." He called after her. The silence of the hours of darkness washed over him as Spike lay back down, arms crossed beneath his head.

"Forgot something." The lilting voice of Faye reached the man's ears as she spoke from the doorway to the hall. Quiet footsteps made their way back to where he was sitting.

"Sweet dreams." Faye whispered as she reached down to give him the lightest of pecks on his forehead before running out of the room (he chose to ignore the sounds of her mistaking the wall for the door).

"Sweet dreams to you too, babe." Spike yawned carelessly, grinning slightly at the whole situation. Why the hell did they only get along at night?

"Eh. Whatever." The male rolled on to his side and dismissed the thought as he drifted back to sleep contentedly.

* * *

**(A/N: My God... three chapters in two days. What the hell am I on and why the hell can't I be on it all the time? Well, hoped you all liked this one, Spike and Faye were a tad bit OoC, but hey- it's a fanfic! I can do whatever the hell I want! -cough- Pleasedon'tflameme OO**

**Well, anyway, thank you for reading! Please review! Oh, and I'm open to suggestions and requests. Remember- these are drabbles -that are more like one shots...- and are meant for you, the readers! See you soon )**


	4. Borrowing With No Intention of Return

Pairing(s): SpikexFaye

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: If I owned CB, a lot of things would be different. For example... a certain blond slut would be dead. -cough- (Translation: DO NOT OWN.)

* * *

Faye liked baggy clothes. Yeah, hard to believe, right? It's true though, Faye Valentine is far more comfortable in a giant T-Shirt than in skin tight spandex. Dressing like a five Woolong whore was more habit than anything else- oh sure, it made her feel good about herself (what woman _doesn't_ want to feel sexy?) but she felt more at home in sweat pants.

Maybe that's what drove her to swipe one of Spike's shirts. Faye had recently taken to sleeping in one of her comrade's button up canary yellow silk shirts. It's not like he didn't have plenty of the same, the sheer volume of Spike's wardrobe had shocked Faye- he had dozens of tops identical to the one she was lounging in. Granted, half of them were blood stained, ripped and otherwise massacred, but still.

Faye was quite comfortable in her 'borrowed' sleepwear. She wonders, though, why Spike has said nothing to her on the matter. She was almost positive the cowboy had noticed his pilfered apparel hanging on her slim frame, but the most she ever received was a strange half glance now and then. In fact, Faye was starting to believe she actually _got away_ with it! How exci-

"When do I get my clothes back?"

…_Never mind then_.

"What do you mean Moss head?" Faye's lazy voice drifted up to the lanky man from her perch on the couch. The petit woman sat down the magazine she held and straitened up.

"You know what I mean. You've had my shirt for three weeks now, I want it back." Spike growled, Faye rolled her emerald green eyes.

"Why didn't you ask earlier, if you want it so badly?" She yawned theatrically.

"Why do you have it in the first place?" The lanky man expertly side stepped her question.

"I like the color yellow." Faye sniffed, staring down at her bright red nails.

"Bull shit. Give me my shirt back." Spike stared down at the petulant woman, anger evident in his eyes. Faye sighed, laying back down into her previous position.

"Come on Spiegel. You have a closet full of shirts exactly like this, why would you miss just one?" Spike opened his mouth, brow furrowed, but apparently thought better of what he was about to say and shut it, Faye grinned.

"You wouldn't want it back either way. It probably reeks of my perfume by now." She stated simply, observing with glee the look of pure venom on her partner's features.

"Like I care. I need a shirt." Spike spat, Faye cocked a single, perfectly arched brow.

"You mean…" Faye lifted herself off her elbows, standing on her knees on top of the couch cushion. Faye extended one pale hand, Spike immediately backed up.

"You… you're not wearing a shirt under that jacket, are you?" Faye sniggered as she caught sight of the bare flesh peeking out from Spike's dark blue jacket.

"Nope. I'm out. Of. Shirts." Spike ground out from between clinched teeth.

"I knew this would happen… do you want me to salvage what I can of your other shirts?" Faye said, trying her best to suppress that annoying chuckle threatening to break through.

"Do you even know _how_ to sew?" Spike's brown eyes were skeptical. Faye glared. "Yes, I do. Not that you'd bother to ask." Faye's voice came out offended. The green haired male shrugged.

"Eh. Whatever. Help yourself to my closet, I've got some pants that are ripped too. Just don't take anything else, alright?" Spike retreated to the kitchen, glad to have a personal tailor on hand. Hmm, looks like Faye was worth something around the Bebop after all.

* * *

Three hours, two buckets of soapy water, five spools of thread and two yards of fabric later Spike's apparel was good as new- and missing a pair of pants.

* * *

**(A/N: Well, I was planning to write this ever since I mentioned the '****vaguely **recognizing his shirt' in chapter one... so here we go. Sneaky Faye pilfered more clothes. 

**On another note: desperate for requests! I'm brain dead right now, please don't make me think for myself T.T Review please!)**


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